


Lost in our memories.

by riddlemesilly94



Category: South Park
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-28
Updated: 2016-10-28
Packaged: 2018-08-27 13:36:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8403667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riddlemesilly94/pseuds/riddlemesilly94
Summary: After ten, long years in their small, humble abode, Craig and Tweek are finally moving into a new apartment. While Craig's been busy with the renovations, Tweek's been assigned packing duty. Tweek comes to realize, however, that packing a home filled with ten years worth of memories is far more daunting that he'd imagined. One-shot. Creek.





	

“Here’s a box, dump what you don’t want inside and I’ll drive them to the junkyard later. I’ve to leave now to inspect the renovations.”

Passing a large box to Tweek, Craig continued, hesitance evident in his voice, “You’ll be alright…. Right?”

“For God’s sake Craig, I’m pretty sure I’m capable of clearing up the house.”

Watching him with narrowed eyes, Craig shrugged, “I’ll take your word for it then.”

“Yes, go! Also, please make sure they’ve installed the new coffee machine in the kitchen,” Tweek replied, pushing Craig towards the door.

“Don’t worry, after the fit you threw 2 years back, I’m a step away from growing our own damn cocoa beans,” Craig snorted. Planting a quick kiss on Tweek’s mouth, he left hastily to oversee the renovations.

 

* * *

Picking up the box, Tweek headed straight to their shared bedroom, determined to make the most of his afternoon. Upon closer inspection however, Tweek realized how daunting a task he had been assigned. Ten years worth of items were kept here, some present from the very first day they moved in. Packing was truly going to be a bitch. 

 

_Deep breaths, Tweek. We’re clearing stuff out first, packing will come later._

 

Glancing across the room, Tweek decided to start on the inconspicuous chest situated at the corner of their room. It was one of the few pieces of furniture they owned when they had first moved in. A cheap, wooden chest purchased from a sale they had chanced upon in IKEA. Tweek chuckled as he remembered how as college students making minimum wage, they had to ration, scrimp and save. They’re in better times now, with better jobs and soon, a new, fancier apartment. But the past held a very special place in Tweek’s heart too.

Opening the bottom drawer, Tweek was greeted by the sight of a familiar stress ball. Yellow with a big smiley face on it, Tweek felt his insides warm. He squeezed it fondly as he reminisced.

 

_“What if it crashes? What if it bursts into flames? Tell me Crag, what do I do then? I don’t want to die thousands of feet above sea level!”_

_Flipping through the safety leaflet for the twentieth time, Tweek was on the verge of a panic attack. It was his first time on a plane and it was, to put it minimally, absolutely nerve-wrecking._

_“Tweek, the plane is not going to spontaneously combust. Statistically, it is far safer to be on a plane than on a car.”_

_“Oh God, this literally, literally, is too much pressure! I don’t want to study in New York anymore Craig, let’s get off. I’m serious, let’s get off. I don’t mind living in Southpark forever if it means not taking a plane.”_

_Craig rubbed his temples and sighed, Tweek was as stubborn as he was irrational._

_“Craig, I have a brilliant idea. We could drive to New York instead!”_  
_“Tweek, you do realize that it would take days to reach New York by car right? Besides, I’ll have to drive the entire way because you don’t drive.”_

_‘Boarding complete. Ladies and gentlemen, please fasten your seat belts and pay attention to the safety video…’_

_“Safety video?! Why do they need a safety video?! Do they think that something horrible may happen?!”_

_“No Tweek, it’s protocol. It’s just information.”_

_“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” Tweek whimpered as he clenched his fists tightly together, nails digging into flesh in unbridled anxiety, knuckles white from harsh gripping._

_Then, he felt Craig squeeze his knees reassuringly, blue eyes watching him worriedly yet lovingly._

_“Here, a little something to help you.”_

_Tweek stared at the yellow, smiley ball on his lap, laughter threatening to escape his lips. The ball was a complete contrast to Craig who stuck to neutral, blue tones and scowls. Grabbing the ball in his left hand, Tweek gave it a tentative squeeze._

_“It does feel pretty good.”_

_Tweek gave a second squeeze, channelling all his frustration, anxiety and irrational anger into that one action. Craig shook his head in amusement and as a gesture of comfort and love, placed his hand on top of Tweek’s, giving a gentle squeeze._

_“Feeling better now?”_

_“A little. But I’d be lying if I say I weren’t nervous!”_

_Chuckling, Craig planted a kiss on Tweek’s temple. “It’ll be over soon I promise. We’ll be in New York soon enough.”_

_The plane ascended with the smiling ball in Tweek’s hand and Tweek’s hand in Craig’s._

_“Craig.”_

_“Hm?”_

_“I’ve thought about it and I’ve concluded that at least, I’ll get to die by your side.”_

_“Tweek, for the umpteenth time, the plane is not going to spontaneously combust.”_

_“But how can you be so sure?”_

_4 hours later, they landed, Tweek thanking the heavens for their mercy and Craig mentally exhausted._

 

* * *

Tweek clenched the yellow ball close to his heart, feeling his insides warm as he smiled fondly at the precious memory. _He’s always been so patient even when I’m at my worst._ He placed the ball aside and continued his rummaging.

_Craig’s old chullo hat, Stripe’s old collar, some old batteries. Alright, these old batteries will go into the box. My old wallet, some foreign currencies, Craig’s silver swimming medal, a useless iPhone charger…_

Oh god, Craig’s silver medal.

Tweek groaned as a particularly embarrassing memory that he had tried so hard to forget, resurfaced in his mind.

_It was the summer eight years ago when Craig was on the university’s varsity swim team. Tall, athletic and well built, Craig was a prolific and talented swimmer. He had been incredibly psyched for the National Swimming Championships, training days on end, dragging Tweek along to the gym and driving him nuts with his healthy meal plans. As such, it came as no surprise to Tweek when Craig emerged second in his pet event, the 200m freestyle, clocking a personal best._

_Sure, Craig was no Olympian but Tweek was mighty proud of his boyfriend. Craig must have been pleased too as he lavished his boyfriend with attention and amorous public displays of affection. So after a quick dinner, they stumbled into their apartment, atmosphere hot and heavy, hands all over. Craig was ravenous and his appetite had to be satiated._

_It was then, after a passionate round of love making, that Tweek found himself dazed on the bed, Craig’s silver medal hung around his neck (Craig had found it incredibly sexy), with a butt much sorer but a heart much lighter. Craig had promptly rolled out of bed to clean up while Tweek stayed back, sighing in satisfaction and bliss. A familiar ‘bzz’ however, pulled him out of his post- coital euphoria. Grabbing Craig’s phone, Tweek read the text message._

_‘Yo, heard about your win! Congratulations bro!’_

_How sweet of Kenny, Tweek thought._

_‘Bzz’. Another text message received._

_“Btw, have you stuck your hand up Annie’s ass? ;) ”_

_Tweek felt his insides freeze and his stomach lurch. Who the fuck is Annie? That son of a bitch._

_“Tweek, don’t you want to clean up?”_

_Speak of the devil. Tweek snapped his head up as Craig entered the room._

_“Don’t you fucking touch me, you lying son of a bitch. Who the fuck is Annie? Mind telling me that? While you lie in our bed, pounding my ass, you go around sticking your hand up some other chick’s ass? And to think that I’ve always trusted you, you lying son…” Tweek spat, fists clenched, tears threatening to spill._

_However, instead of the flustered reaction that Tweek had expected, Craig was pinching the bridge of his nose, sighing in exasperation. The sight made Tweek’s blood boil._

_“Now you think I’m making a fuss? Is that it? You go behind my back…” Tweek shouted._

_“Annie is a cow Tweek, a pregnant cow.”_

_Tweek froze._

_“I had to perform a rectal palpation, it’s part of my veterinary assessment. I had to stick my hand up Annie’s ass… to check on the fetus,” Craig continued, a hint of amusement in his voice._

_Tweek felt the rush of blood to his face, flushed red with embarrassment. A full minute of silence ensued as Craig let the news sink in, a full blown smirk now plastered on his face while Tweek was internally reeling from embarrassment._

_“Oh my god Craig, I’m so sorry, I should have trusted you. Oh god, this is embarrassing.”_

_“It’s fine, I should have told you. I was just worried that…”_

_Suddenly, it dawned on Tweek._

_“You stuck a hand up a cow’s butthole, and then you just… Oh God! What if I contract mad cow disease or something!” Tweek exclaimed, making a dash for the bathroom, embarrassment now replaced by disgust._

_Craig sighed as he continued, “I was worried about that. And no Tweek, you’re not going to get mad cow disease.”_

_Unconvinced, Tweek spent the next fifteen minutes in the bathroom scrubbing... bovine off of him as Craig watched amused, boisterous laughter bouncing off the walls of their apartment._

 

* * *

 

Tweek pressed the cool medal to his cheek, chuckling at the embarrassing yet amusing memory. Of all of Craig’s veterinary school stories, that was secretly, one of his favourite. He placed the medal carefully in his ‘to keep’ pile, consciously aware that near an hour has rolled by and while his ‘to keep’ pile grows exponentially in size, the box was barely filled.

_I’m seriously getting nowhere, there’s just too much stuff here, I should start at another part of the apartment._

Tweek headed to their shared study, a small, cosy and humble room filled with Tweek’s many photography catalogues, Craig’s veterinary school textbooks, their notes, papers and haphazard attempts at cataloguing their bills. They had spent countless nights here, Tweek mulling over his designs on the reading couch while Craig buried his head deep in books at their desk.

It had come as a surprise to many that stoic Craig, the resident trouble marker of Southpark had ambitions to be a vet. Tweek however, had always been convinced that there was nothing more suitable for Craig. Normally disdainful and quiet around others, Craig had a particular soft spot for animals. In fact, Sparky and Mr Kitty were the only reasons why Craig had allowed himself to be pulled to Stan or Cartman’s house when they were growing up. Tweek found his love for animals especially endearing and attractive.

Tweek on the other hand, with his obsessive personality, turned out to be exceptionally gifted at design. With a quick and keen eye for detail and patterns, Tweek captured stunning photographs easily. Photography was an outlet for him to channel his nervous, anxious yet creative energies. Paired with his more than decent Photoshop skills, Tweek made for one hell of a graphic designer. Thus armed with their grades and an overwhelming desire to leave their crazy mountain town behind, Craig and Tweek took the plunge and relocated to the Big Apple.

Tweek visually scanned the walls of the room, taking a moment to fully appreciate the times that they’ve spent there. It was the room that they had built their professions and careers upon. Late nights, deadlines, assignments and projects all completed in this one, humble study. His eyes lingered on a particular photograph hung unassumingly on the wall above their desk. It was a simple, black and white photograph that captured the Brooklyn Bridge in all its glory at sundown. The lighting was perfect, the sun’s last rays raining down upon the bridge, illuminating it with an ethereal glow. It was one of Tweek’s finest pieces, a memorable piece that admittedly launched his career. He was undoubtedly, immensely proud of it. He took the carefully framed photograph down from the wall and traced it lightly with his finger, a smile ghosting on his lips as he recounted the day Craig gifted it to him.

_It was Christmas Eve seven years ago. Craig and Tweek were sitting on their reading couch, green, red and white construction paper sprawled all over the table and floor. They were about to host a small Christmas gathering the next day and had nothing to show for it, save a naked Christmas tree placed awkwardly in the centre of their living room. Unfortunately as struggling students, beautiful store-bought Christmas ornaments were a luxury. Inspired by Pinterest and possibly Martha Stewart, Tweek decided that homemade crafts were the way to go. Craig, much to his dismay, was roped in as a disgruntled, unwilling participant._

_“Come on Craig! It’s time to unleash your inner artistic abilities!”_

_“Tweek, you do know that I draw stick figures for people right?’”_

_Thrusting a pair of scissors at Craig, Tweek added firmly, “Alright, you’ll just have to cut these snowflakes out! I’ve already traced them.”_

_Craig sighed deeply, grabbed the pair of scissors and begrudgingly went to work. After what felt like an eternity (aka two snowflakes later), Craig couldn’t help but ask, “Why didn’t we just return to Southpark for the holidays?”_

_“We’ve been through this Craig, it’ll be nice if our parents can see, for themselves, what we’ve been describing over Skype for the past 3 years. Maybe it doesn’t matter much to you, but I’d like my parents to see that I’m really enjoying what I’m doing in New York,” Tweek replied, face hopeful._

_While Tweek had a penchant for photography and design, his family had always harboured some hope that Tweek would one day inherit the family business. Though Tweek loved coffee, he wasn’t interested in actually selling coffee, much less selling bad, terrible coffee._

_“At least your family respects your profession. Dad thinks I’m in over my head with my choice,” Tweek sighed._

_“Tweek, your dad also thinks that your family roasts the world’s best coffee.”_

_Tweek couldn’t help but laugh. “Touché Craig!”_

_A companionable silence descended upon them as they continued their mini-DIY project. A snowflake later, Craig gazed thoughtfully at Tweek, much to the curiosity of the latter._

_“Yes, Craig?”_

_“Hm. Stay here, I’ve a small present for you.”_

_Craig returned with a small brown package in his hands, scooting closer to Tweek before surrendering it to impatient hands. Tweek unwrapped the present eagerly, curious as to what Craig had planned. The simple gift stole his breath away._

_“Wow Craig, this is really gorgeous.”_

_Tweek couldn’t help but gasp at what Craig had gifted him. It was his photograph, printed and tastefully framed. The medium oak was a great complement to the black and white photograph Tweek had taken weeks back while canvassing the East River for subjects._

_“It’s your photograph that’s gorgeous Tweek. You’re an amazing photographer. If your family can’t see that, then they’re missing out.”_

_Hugging his present tightly, Tweek leaned into Craig, his insides all warm and fuzzy from the thoughtful gesture. As Craig planted a kiss on his head, Tweek knew in that instance that Craig was ‘the one’. Craig was his other and possibly even better, half._

_“Come on, let’s hang it somewhere in the house,” Craig insisted._

_Thirty minutes and countless arguments later, they finally settled on the study, on that bare patch of wall above the desk._

That very photograph went on to clinch Tweek’s very first photography accolade in the prestigious Monochrome Awards, paving the way for future projects and commissions. It was the piece that launched Tweek’s career as a professional photographer and graphic designer.

His ridiculous stick figures aside, Craig does have a pretty discerning eye, Tweek thought to himself, bemused.

 

* * *

 

Tweek placed the framed photograph resolutely in his ever growing ‘to keep’ pile and resumed his packing.

_Papers, an old set of headphones, these will have to go. More papers, more books, some loose post-its, Craig’s notes, my sketches, June’s utility bill, my lenses, Craig’s kindle…_

An hour later, bored and exhausted from flipping through papers, Tweek was convinced that while his box remained scarcely filled and his ‘to keep’ pile was beginning to resemble a tiny hill, everything else in their study would simply have to be sent to the recycling bin. Satisfied with his reasoning, Tweek decided to shift his ‘packing’ to the living room.

When they had first moved in, the living room was bare, save for a mangy, old couch that the previous tenant had left behind. Ten years and multiple trips to IKEA later, their living room had evolved into their very own relaxation corner. A decent flat screen, a sturdy coffee table and a comfortable couch (Tweek had promptly thrown the old one out following suspicions that it was giving them head lice), the couple had spent nights indulging themselves here. A small and neat space, save for the TV console, there really wasn’t much to be packed here. Tweek opened the console drawers, taking his time to peruse through the numerous games and DVDs they’ve accumulated.

_Craig’s stupid PS4, the Stick of Truth game, our Wii console, our jukebox, Grand Theft Auto, the Witcher…_

Tweek took the items out one by one, piling them neatly on the floor.

_Aside from Craig’s stupid PS4, the rest will be added to the ‘to keep’ pile._

Multiple games later, Tweek reached the back of the drawer, surprised by the white, round object placed lost and forgotten there. It’s been years since Tweek’s seen Craig’s ashtray, bought after the couple’s first spat after moving to New York.

_Tweek paced up and down the apartment nervously, it’s been 2 hours since Craig was supposed to return home. He hadn’t replied any of Tweek’s texts nor has he answered any of Tweek’s calls. It was mid-Janaury and New York was experiencing some pretty frosty weather. The sun had long set and the streets were dark, cold and empty. It wasn’t like Craig to return late and if he was, Tweek would usually be informed. Tweek felt his blood run cold as he let his mind wander, each possible scenario bloodier, darker and more dangerous than the one before._

_Just as he was seriously contemplating lodging a police report, the front door creaked open. Tweek dashed to the door, his insides flooded with relief. Unfortunately, his happiness was short lived. Craig limped into the house injured, an unsightly bruise forming over his right eye and his lips were swollen._

_“What happened to you Craig? Were you robbed? Did someone hit you?” Tweek inquired frantically. He grabbed Craig’s face gently, fussing over his wounds and his cuts._

_“It’s nothing Tweek, they’re just superficial wounds, they’ll heal easily,” Craig replied warily, his eyes not meeting Tweek’s._

_“What do you mean by it’s nothing? You have a nasty black eye and your lips are bleeding!”_

_“Don’t worry Tweek, it really is nothing.”_

_While he was mostly worried, Tweek felt a familiar anger boiling within. He was tired of being kept in the dark all the time, as if he were some fragile being that couldn’t see the light._

_“I’m not some timid, little creature that needs protecting Craig. Tell me what the fuck happened,” Tweek snapped._

_“I don’t think you need protecting. It’s just… Cartman.”_

_“Cartman?” Tweek was momentarily taken aback. It’s been a whole year since they’ve seen Cartman, what was he doing all the way in New York?_

_“Yeah. Bastard says he’s got some good business in this part of town. He was saying some… things about us. About you. And I snapped, I wanted to beat the living daylight out of that fucker,” Craig growled._

_“So you punched him?”_

_“Fuck yeah, I punched the shit out of him. Cartman’s in a far worse condition that I am, that’ll teach him to keep his mouth shut,” Craig sneered, a blood thirsty grin gracing his face._

_Tweek remained quiet as he tended to Craig’s wounds. He had never doubted Craig’s ability to inflict physical pain, rather it was Craig’s inclination to resort to physical violence that unnerved and worried him. Craig Tucker’s infamous temper was the reason why he ended up being the resident bad boy in Southpark. While he’s never raised a hand against people who didn’t truly deserve it, he’s penchant for violence worried Tweek._

_“What are you thinking about Tweek?”_

_Placing the disinfectant down, Tweek replied quietly, “You could have just ignored him and left you know?”_

_“I couldn’t help it Tweek, he was taunting, disrespectful and a bigoted, homophobic jerk.”_

_“Yes, he is a bigoted and homophobic jerk. But you’re far better than he is. You could have been the bigger person and walked away from all that!”_  
  
_“So, you’re taking his side now?” Craig questioned coldly._

_“What did you say?” Tweek saw red. Here he was fussing over his injuries and Craig had the audacity to suggest that he was ‘taking sides’._

_Craig, unaware of the coming storm, shrugged and lit a cigarette. The subsequent obnoxious puff of smoke was the last straw for Tweek._

_Slamming his fists onto the kitchen counter, Tweek retorted angrily, “God damn it Craig, I’m not taking anyone’s fucking side. I’m just saying that you should stop raising your fists at everyone you take offense with. It’s why we left Southpark remember? So that we could start afresh! You’ve been lucky that you’ve left your fights unscathed. What if you had met a capable fighter? What then? What about me? What about the people who care for you?”_

_Craig paused mid-smoke, taken aback by Tweek’s outburst and feeling infinitely guiltier that he had before._

_“Tweek… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”_

_“Yeah fuck you Craig, and for the umpteenth time, stop smoking in our apartment, you leave your cigarettes and cigarette butts all over the fucking place,” Tweek replied coldly, the fatigue and stress of the day finally getting to him. He stomped over to their bedroom and promptly locked himself inside. Craig was getting nowhere near him tonight._

_Tweek awoke the next day, irritable and exhausted from a lack of proper sleep. Anger and frustration had caused him to toss and turn incessantly and sleep evaded him. He unlocked the door to their bedroom and took a tentative step. To his surprise and slight disappointment, Craig wasn’t in the apartment. A part of him had hoped that Craig would be up early, pleading for his forgiveness. He plopped himself on the couch sourly, wondering where his boyfriend had gone._

_Just then, the front door creaked open. Craig, now sporting a black eye, entered holding two bags of food. The smell of fresh waffles and coffee wafted through the apartment and Tweek was filled with anticipation. Oh, how he loved waffles AND coffee. Containing his excitement however, he followed Craig with watchful eyes._

_Evidently nervous, Craig placed their breakfast on the table, before scooting next to Tweek. When he realized that Tweek had not made an effort to push him away, he placed his arm over the smaller man and pulled him close._

_“I’m so sorry Tweek, I didn’t mean to make you worried and I definitely did not mean I said.”_

_Tweek looked into Craig’s beautiful, blue eyes and saw remorse and desperation._

_Sighing, he cupped Craig’s injured face tenderly, “I know. I’m sorry you had to sleep on the couch last night. I shouldn’t have locked you out.”_

_Grabbing Tweek’s hands, Craig led him into the kitchen. “Come on, let’s have some breakfast, I got these waffles from the new place downtown you wanted to try.”_

_Feeling infinitely lighter inside, Tweek sat at his usual spot, eagerly awaiting his waffles and coffee. While setting the table however, he noticed Craig pulling a round, white object from his bag._

_“What’s that?” Tweek inquired curiously._

_Rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, Craig replied, “Oh, it’s an ashtray, you know, for my cigarettes and cigarette butts.”_

_Tweek beamed, bright and geuine. What a sweet, sweet man, he thought, and he’s all mine._

 

* * *

 

Tweek studied the ashtray closely, contemplating if he should place it in his ‘to keep’ pile or the box. It’s been years since Craig’s used it. After dedicating his time to competitive swimming years back, he’d stopped smoking completely. On the other hand, it’s memorabilia.

_We may have guests who’d like to smoke. We’ll have something for them then, Tweek reasoned, placing the ashtray in his now, massive ‘to keep’ pile._

Just then, the creaking of the front door snapped Tweek out of his reverie. Craig was back from overseeing their renovations!

“Tweek, I got you some coffee on the way back,” Craig announced, his infamous monotonous voice reverberating through their tiny apartment.

“Craig! Oh I’ve missed you!” Tweek exclaimed, rushing to Craig’s side and clutching him in a tight hug.

Confused but amused, Craig returned the hug with equal fervour. “Woah, I’ve been gone for only four hours Tweek, what’s up? How’s the packing going?”

 _Oh shit, the packing._ Tweek grinned sheepishly.

“It’s progressing…slowly?”

“Tweek, you do know we’re moving out in a week’s time right?” Craig sighed.

Grabbing Craig’s arm, Tweek continued defensively, “Yes but it’s just so nostalgic going through all our stuff. I can’t believe we’re going to move Craig, I mean, we’ve lived here for ten years. I found my old stress ball, your old swimming medal and even your ashtray! The thought of moving just tears me up inside.”

While Tweek had originally meant to defend himself, he’d never expect his voice to crack towards the end. The finality of their move had finally suck in and Tweek was hit by a hard wave of nostalgia that made his heart heavy and his eyes, wet.

“Oh Tweek, come here,” Craig mumbled, pulling Tweek to him and enveloping him in another hug. “I miss it too. But we’ll make more memories too in our new apartment, wouldn’t we?”

Tweek nodded quietly, burying his head in Craig’s chest. _Just a minute longer, I just want to relish one more minute with you, like this, in our old apartment, he thought._

The couple spent a few minutes locked in a deep embrace, silently recollecting ten years worth of memories made in their small, humble apartment. It’s been a great run and now they’re about to start another chapter of their lives.

As Craig released Tweek from their hug, the latter searched in his pockets for a certain medal he’d found earlier and gingerly slipped it on.

“Remember your medal?” Tweek questioned, giving a suggestive wink.

“You mean Annie?” Craig replied, amused.

Tweek rolled his eyes annoyed _. Craig’s such an asshole sometimes._

Craig laughed deeply before pulling Tweek closer, replying huskily, “Of course I do.”

Blue eyes met green and as Craig tugged him closer for a deep kiss, Tweek came to a revelation.

**_Home is where Craig is. As long as Craig is here, I am home._ **

 


End file.
